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ADDRESS  OF 
PROFESSOR  GEORGE  HERBERT  PALMER.  Ph.D. 

AT    THE 

CHARTER  DAY  EXERCISES 
MARCH  23,  1917 


[Reprint  from  the  University  of  California  Chronicle,  Vol.  XIX,  No.  3] 


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ADDRESS  OF  PROFESSOR  GEORGE  HERBERT 

PALMER,  Ph.D.,  AT  THE  CHARTER  DAY 

EXERCISES,  MARCH  23,  1917 


President  Wheeler: 

I  introduce  to  you  as  the  speaker  of  the  day  a  man  who 
for  many  years  has  been,  in  a  rather  unique  way,  but  in  a 
quiet  and  inconspicuous  way,  after  his  sort,  a  friend  of  this 
university.  His  inherent  sense  for  order  has  given  him 
always  in  life  a  peculiar  delight  in  seeing  the  right  man  put 
in  the  right  place,  and  this  fact,  coupled  with  his  rare  judg- 
ment as  to  men,  has  caused  him  to  be  consulted  by  men  and 
universities.  Notably  has  he  been  consulted,  over  and  over 
again  by  this  university,  and  we  do  not  forget  that  early 
gift  of  his  to  us  which  came  by  his  recommendation  of  the 
late  head  of  the  Department  of  Philosophy.  I  introduce  to 
you  as  the  speaker,  then,  a  man  whose  sense  of  fitness  has 
made  him  for  a  long  time  your  friend.  His  sense  of  order 
has  made  him  master  of  the  beauty  of  the  spoken  word 
beyond  the  ordinary,  has  made  him  a  historian  of  letters 
and  a  man  of  letters  himself.  But  that  sense  for  form,  the 
native  craving  in  his  heart  for  the  simplicity  of  funda- 
mental things,  has  made  him  a  philosopher,  a  philosopher 
in  the  largest  and  purest  sense  of  the  word.  Philosopher, 
man  of  letters,  counsellor,  friend,  the  Alford  Professor  of 
Natural  Religion,  Moral  Philosophy,  and  Civil  Polity  in 
Harvard  University,  George  Herbert  Palmer. 

Professor  Palmer: 

Regents  and  Faculty  of  the  University,  men  and  women 
of  the  alumni :  I  sympathize  with  your  disappointment 
today.  You  have  been  expecting  to  become  acquainted 
with  a  college  president  comparable  in  eminence,   ability 


369405 


and  personal  charm  with  the  head  of  your  own  university, 
a  statesman  learned  in  government  as  practiced  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  a  delightful  speaker,  one  to  whom 
through  family  connections,  a  hundred  memories  call,  and 
yet  who  has  always  kept  himself  a  simple,  lovable,  and 
democratic-minded  gentleman.  I  know  how  eager  he  was 
to  visit  you  and  am  sure  that  nothing  but  a  sense  of  public 
duty  could  have  held  him  back. 

Called  on,  as  I  then  am,  in  this  sudden  eclipse  of  your 
hopes,  to  send  out  some  few  rays  of  compensatory  light,  I 
have  wondered  from  what  source  the  necessary  illuminating 
oil  could  be  drawn.  My  subject  must  be  one  of  common 
interest  to  you  and  to  myself — one,  too,  in  which,  through 
previous  acquaintance,  I  shall  not  be  unduly  disturbed  by 
the  absence  of  books  and  papers.  Such  a  subject  I  seem 
to  m^^self  to  have  found  in  him  who  stands  as  the  patron 
saint  of  your  city  and  at  the  same  time  as  one  of  the  sup- 
porters of  my  own  philosophic  studies,  George  Berkeley.  . 

When  the  trustees  of  the  College  of  California  decided 
to  move  their  little  institution  from  Oakland  to  a  more  per- 
manent and  ample  site  on  these  wooded  hills,  they  rightly 
anticipated  that  before  long  a  large  city  would  grow  up 
around  them.  How  should  it  be  called?  Many  proposals 
were  made  by  Frederick  Law  Olmsted,  and  others,  none  of 
them  satisfactory,  until  Frederick  Billings,  a  leader  among 
the  trustees,  proposed  the  name  of  Berkeley.  It  was  at 
once  seen  that  this  name  precisely  expressed  the  ideals 
which  they  desired  for  their  new  city.  They  meant  that 
this  place  should  be  a  place  consecrated  to  thoughtful  study, 
to  public  spirit,  to  the  enthusiasm  of  humanity;  and  where 
else  could  so  admirable  a  defender  of  these  things  be  found 
as  in  the  great  English  idealist?  On  the  whole,  their  fore- 
casts have  been  justified.  Berkeley  has  been  true  to  these 
lofty  aims.  But  how  often  have  you  connected  these  mat- 
ters with  him  in  whom  they  originally  appeared?  How 
many  are  there  in  this  audience  who  could  state  with  any 
fullness  the  events  of  that  picturesque  career?     It  is  well 


that  they  should  be  recalled,  that  you  should  from  time  to 
time  freshen  the  inspiration  and  pride  which  you  have  in  a 
godfather  so  august.  Instead,  then,  of  presenting  to  you 
today  an  abstract  and  argumentative  oration,  I  will  briefly 
recount  the  life  of  George  Berkeley.  A  portrait  of  him  is 
upon  the  platform,  presented  to  this  University  by  the  same 
Frederick  Billings  who  devised  the  name — a  portrait  copied 
from  the  original  now  in  the  possession  of  Yale  University. 

I  need  not  dwell  long  on  the  early  life  of  Berkeley. 
Very  little  is  known  of  it.  The  life  as  a  whole  extends 
from  1684  to  1753.  But  of  his  early  life  very  faint  records 
are  preserved.  Apparently  Charles  I  gave  a  grant  in  Ire- 
land to  Berkeley's  English  ancestor,  a  grant  in  the  beauti- 
ful County  of  Kilkenny,  and  it  may  well  be  that  that  deep 
interest  in  beautiful  scenery  which  was  ever  a  characteristic 
of  Berkeley  sprang  up  at  this  time.  Berkeley  attended  the 
public  school  of  Kilkenny,  one  of  the  very  best  at  that  time 
in  Ireland.  It  had  been  attended  twenty  years  before  by 
a  man  hardly  less  eminent  subsequently  than  himself,  by 
Dean  Swift.  Berkeley  tells  us  in  his  journal  that  at  the 
age  of  eight  he  became  distrustful  of  authority  and  that  he 
had  a  natural  disposition  to  new  opinions.  I  do  not  think 
this  indicates  inclination  to  a  general  doubt.  There  was 
nothing  of  that  loose  sort  in  Berkeley ;  only  a  determination 
never  to  have  an  ambiguous  thought,  to  think  out  every- 
thing that  he  asserted  into  its  ultimate  elements.  That  was 
a  disposition  which  attended  him  through  life. 

The  first  important  event  of  his  life  was  that  he  entered 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  March  21,  1700.  Indeed,  it  may 
be  well  to  remember  how  important  a  month  this  was,  this 
month  of  March,  in  Berkeley's  life.  He  was  born  on  the 
12th  of  March,  and  217  years  ago  day  before  j^esterday  he 
entered  Trinity  College. 

And  then  appeared,  very  soon  after  his  entrance  to 
Trinitj^  some  of  those  features  which  distinguished  his  life 
throughout.  Indeed,  we  may  divide  his  life  by  their  pres- 
ence.    I  mean  his  three  enthusiasms,  his  many  virtues,  and 


6 


a  single  poem.  The  three  enthusiasms  were  somewhat  un- 
common ones.  They  were  an  enthusiasm  for  the  non- 
existence of  the  material  world,  for  the  founding  of  a 
college  in  America,  and  for  the  drinking  of  tar-water. 
These  are  not  causes  which  ordinarily  stir  the  blood  of  man-- 
kind,  nor,  indeed,  causes  which  you  could  readily  under- 
stand by  my  mentioning  them,  but  as  I  come  to  explain 
them  I  think  you  Avill  see  that  they  were  solidly  grounded, 
carefully  considered,  and  that  on  the  whole  they  marked 
the  man  who  cherished  them  as  one  of  the  noble  leaders  of 
mankind.  I  shall  bring  in  his  poem  in  its  proper  place, 
allowing  the  virtues  to  be  distributed  wherever  they  appear, 
but  I  shall  devote  my  oration  chiefly  to  the  three  enthu- 
siasms. 

The  first  of  them  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  demonstration  of 
the  immateriality  of  the  world.  When  Berkeley  entered 
Trinity  College,  it  was  a  time  of  grave  disturbance  in 
human  thought.  The  old  scholasticism,  descending  in  its 
dogmatic  modes  from  the  Middle  Ages,  had  not  been  alto- 
gether cast  out  from  the  university.  Other  influences  were 
astir  there,  calling  to  the  young  men.  There  was,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  tendency  of  Hobbes,  in  England,  and  of 
Gassendi,  in  France,  to  lay  great  stress  on  matter  and  its 
laws,  indeed  to  leave  but  little  room  for  commanding  mind. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  was  the  tendency  in  the  Cartesian 
school  to  believe  that  there  are  certain  fundamental  mental 
principles  which  can  be  trusted  out  of  hand  and  through 
which  all  truth  is  demonstrated  to  us.  But  only  ten  years 
before  Berkeley  entered  Trinity  College  a  new  start  had 
been  made.  A  very  remarkable  book  had  been  published, 
Locke's  "Essay  on  Human  Understanding."  Locke  pro- 
posed a  new  path  in  those  never-ceasing  problems  of  the 
nature  of  mind,  of  the  world,  and  of  God.  To  these  Locke 
proposed  what  he  called  a  "new  way  of  ideas."  That  is, 
he  called  upon  men  to  turn  their  direct  experience,  to  see 
precisely  what  the  contents  of  our  minds  are  and  not  to  go 
beyond  those  into  a  belief  in  matters  which  never  can  be 


verified.     lu  all  this  Berkeley  was  an  ardent  follower  of 
Locke,  only  he  pressed  it  to  a  degree  unknown  to  his  master. 

Immediately  on  his  entrance  to  college,  he  started  a 
notebook  in  which  he  showed  the  most  minute  study  of 
Locke 's  Essay,  going  over  it  chapter  bj'  chapter — yes,  para- 
graph by  paragraph — and  noting  down  his  assents  or  dis- 
sents. Most  interesting  it  is,  in  reading  that  book,  to  see 
gradually  arising  in  him  the  consciousness  of  a  new  prin- 
ciple. This  boy  began  to  see  that  certain  aspects  of  philos- 
ophy had  as  yet  not  had  justice  done  to  them  and  was 
amazed  to  discover  that  he  was  to  be  a  pioneer  in  that  field. 
Again  and  again  he  records  his  fear  that  others  would  not 
accept  his  view.  Still  he  pressed  on,  courageous  in  his  own 
convictions.  

And  what  was  this  new  principle  ?  Perhaps  I  can  best  i 
bring  it  before  you  by  leaving  you  to  discover  it  for  your-  ' 
self.     When  you  look  out  upon  the  world,  what  do  you  /, 

find  in  your  mind?  Is  there  not  there  a  train  of  ideas,  I 
thoughts,  mental  modifications,  continually  passing  before 
your  consciousness?  As  you  inspect  these  phenomena,  you 
will  see  diversities  among  them.  You  will  recognize  that 
some  of  them  are  largely  at  your  own  command.  The  ideas 
of  memory,  of  imagination — these  you  can  summon  or  dis- 
charge. The  ideas,  also,  of  your  own  mental  operations  you 
may  assent  to  or  not.  But  the  ideas  derived  from  your 
senses  you  have  not  that  control  over.  If  I  turn  my  face 
to  the  sky,  with  open  eye,  I  must  behold  light.  I  can  see 
nothing  else.  As  I  hold  the  orange  before  me,  I  must  see 
yellow,  I  must  see  roundness,  I  must,  through  nn-  sense  of 
smell,  detect  fragrance.  I  must,  as  I  touch  it,  recognize 
resistance.  Each  sense  has  its  own  appropriate  report,  and 
it  gives  us  that  report  regardless  of  what  we  desire.  Here, 
therefore,  in  the  ideas  of  sense  there  seems  to  be  a  sugges- 
tion of  something  which  we  are  only  passive  in  receiving. 
But  as  you  come  to  inspect  these  ideas  of  your  own,  will  you 
not  find  that  your  notions  about  them  undergo  some  change  ? 
Looking  at  the  orange,  for  example,  you  feel  that  an  object 


existent  in  the  outer  world,  very  much  such  as  you  behold, 
has  been  somehow  or  other  passed  over  into  your  mind. 
A  very  little  reflection,  however,  will  oblige  you  to  change 
this  view.  Varying  the  supposition  a  little,  suppose,  in 
eating  that  orange  and  finding  it  somewhat  acid,  you  are 
disturbed  with  a  pain.  Will  you  say  that  that  pain  also 
resides  in  the  orange?  "Will  you  not  say  that  that  pain  is 
a  mental  affair  and  therefore  by  no  possibility  could  be 
found  in  the  orange?  Possibly  you  will  think  there  is 
something  in  the  orange  corresponding  with  it  which  has 
brought  it  about,  but  you  will  surely  not  believe  that  the 
orange  contains  a  pain,  and,  if  not  a  pain,  then  why  the 
yellow  color?  Isn't  this  yellow  color  as  dependent  on  the 
formation  of  your  eye,  or  the  constitution  of  your  mind,  as 
is  the  pain  itself?  Will  you,  then,  declare  that  the  orange 
has  in  itself  a  yellow  quality  and  would  have  that  should  all 
conscious  mind  cease?  And  how  far  are  you  going  in  this 
direction?  Will  you  not  have  to  say,  also,  that  its  fra- 
grance is  subjective,  that  it  also  belongs  to  the  beholding 
mind? 
I  ,L'  So  far  Locke  himself  had  gone.  He  had  insisted  that 
all  these  so-called  secondary  qualities,  cjualities  of  the  mind 
and  senses,  were  all  of  them  names,  rather,  of  our  own 
experiences  than  of  anything  found  in  external  objects 
detached  from  ourselves.  But  he  had  believed  that  there 
was  a  set  of  so-called  primary  qualities  which  were  charac- 
teristics of  matter  itself  and  would  reside  there  regardless 
of  whether  there  ever  was  a  beholder.  The  spatial  quali- 
ties of  figure,  size,  weight,  etc.- — all  these  qualities  he 
regarded  as  inherent  in  matter  and  therefore  irremovable. 
They  testify  to  us  of  an  outwardly  existing  world  w^hich 
would  be  practicallj^  the  same  were  all  conscious  mind  to 
be  swept  away.  Here  it  is  that  Berkeley  began  to  deviate 
from  his  master.  For,  after  all,  shall  we  not  be  obliged  to 
say  that  the  apprehension  of  the  figure  of  the  orange  is  no 
less  an  ideal  affair,  a  mental  affair,  than  was  its  color? 
Just  so  with  the  other  so-called  primary  qualities.     What 


right  have  we  to  assume  that  they  exist  outside  ourselves 
when  all  that  we  immediately  perceive  is  that  they  exist 
within  ourselves  as  characteristics  of  our  mind  and  therefore 
should  rather  be  called  ideas  than  qualities  of  things?  Such 
was  Berkeley's  great  new  principle.  It  was  that  every- 
where all  that  we  behold  is  essentially  mental. 

But  did  I  not  a  while  ago  acknowledge  that  these  sense 
ideas,  inasmuch  as  we  see  that  they  are  given  to  us  and  are 
not  under  our  control,  must  come  from  the  outside? 
Berkeley  never  denies  it.  He  never  denies  the  reality  of 
the  external  world  as  he  is  often  said  to  deny  it.  He  only 
insists  that  that  external  world  is  entirely  mental.  For 
what  reason  is  there  to  suppose  an  existent  matter  as  the 
basis  of  such  ideas  of  figure,  form,  or  of  color  ?  It  is  often 
said  that,  inasmuch  as  we  have  those  ideas,  there  must  be 
something  like  them  outside.  But  can  anything  else  be 
like  mind  except  mind  itself?  "What  reason  have  we  to 
suppose  any  matter  there  entirely  alien  to  ourselves? 
What  assertions  could  we  make  in  regard  to  it  ?  Certainly 
it  could  never  be  beheld  by  us.  Whenever  we  look  upon 
it  or  feel  it,  there  is  always  a  response  in  our  mind,  and  it 
is  only  our  ideas  that  we  apprehend.  Strictly  speaking, 
therefore,  there  was  never  any  such  thin^  as  a  rose  born 
to  blush  unseen.  It  is  the  seeing  which  occasions  the  blush. 
It  is  because  there  is  an  apprehender  here  that  there  is 
something  to  be  apprehended.  In  short,  if  we  are  to  sum 
up  Berkeley's  great  principle  in  his  own  language,  "Esse 
est  percipi,"  it  will  come  to  this — "Existence  means  the 
possibility  of  being  perceived. ' ' 

Such  is  the  great  principle,  and  I  suppose  at  once  you 
would  feel  strong  objection  to  it  and  think  it  should  be 
overthrown,  because,  you  would  say,  this  leaves  everything 
in  the  world  uncertain.  It  disintegrates  the  world.  When 
I  leave  my  chamber,  my  chairs  and  tables  at  once  disap- 
pear, because  my  beholding  eye  is  gone  ?  Not  at  all.  Noth- 
ing of  this  sort  has  Berkeley  ever  asserted.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  holds  that  as  we  study  these  ideas  we  find  that 
they  come  to  us  in  regular  groups,  and  that  experiencing 


10 


one  member  of  the  group  reveals  to  us  the  total  collection. 
That  total  collection  is  fixed.  Its  fixity  is  exactly  that 
which  we  mean  by  the  laws  of  nature.  Those  laws  of 
nature  are  not  something  fundamentally  existing  apart 
from  us,  a  mere  abstract  affair.  Not  at  all.  They  indicate 
an  intended  human  experience.  When  I  am  not  beholding 
.  my  chairs  and  tables,  they  are  still  capable  of  being  beheld. 
Their  existence  continues,  for  that  group  of  ideas  that  I 
know  as  the  orange  is  the  same  group  of  ideas  that  you 
know  as  the  orange.  Through  these  fixed  groups,  we  are 
able  to  communicate  with  one  another,  passing  over  the 
experiences  of  my  mind  to  your  mind  and  exchanging  yours 
for  mine.     This  is  the  great  universal  language  of  nature. 

It  may,  however,  be  said,  ' '  But  how  are  these  groups  of 
ideas  fixed  in  their  constitution?  "Why  should  they  always 
appear  together  in  regular  correspondence  with  our  feelings  ? 
That  could  only  be  were  they  the  manifestation  of  personal 
thought  and  plan.  In  fact,  they  represent  the  thoughts  of 
God.  Arbitrary  they  seem  to  us  to  be.  Why  should  it  be 
the  case  that  when  I  behold  a  yellow  object  of  that  special 
kind  there  should  come  with  it  that  particular  fragrance, 
that  particular  hardness,  that  particular  taste?  Why,  I 
ask  ? ' '  We  know  no  why,  only  that  it  has  been  so  eternally 
ordained,  that  this  group  of  experiences  shall  come  together 
so  that  we  may  be  able  to  forecast  our  future  and  to  com- 
municate with  our  fellow  men.  These  groups,  therefore,  of 
collective  ideas  which  constitute  what  we  call  material 
objects,  these  are,  after  all,  only  the  thoughts  of  God.  That 
great  spirit  lies  behind  all  our  experiences,  and  we  know 
none  else. 

Here,  therefore,  in  briefest  outline,  is  Berkeley's  first 
enthusiasm.  Its  aim  is  to  deliver  mankind  from  subjection 
to  the  superstition  of  matter,  and  oblige  men  to  confess 
that  they  never  get  at  matter  except  through  ideas  that  are 
exclusively  mental.  Still  men  persist  in  the  assertion  that 
there  is  what  Berkeley  calls  a  sensual  substance  underlying 
all  ideas.     But,  in  reality,  the  entire  world  is  spiritual,  from 


11 


the  foundation  up.  For,  beside  the  various  ideas  perpetu- 
ally passing  in  our  minds,  if  we  are  going  to  give  a  full 
account  of  existence,  we  shall  have  to  say  that  everywhere 
there  is  a  spirit,  a  soul,  a  person  directing  these  ideas.  In 
reference  to  such  as  they  come  in  purposive  form,  it  is  I, 
myself,  a  finite  person,  who  groups  them  and  apprehends. 
But  in  reference  to  their  constitution  as  forming  an  organ- 
ized world  they  inhere  in  an  eternal  spirit.  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  laws  of  blind  matter  dominant  over  man. 
Man,  or  else  the  infinite  person,  is  he  who  controls  and  is 
master  of  our  fate.  This  is  the  splendid  conception  which 
impelled  Berkeley  to  go  forth  and  try  to  deliver  his  age, 
which  he  regarded  as  a  highly  material  one,  from  supersti- 
tion. He  would  teach  men  that  everywhere  they  meet  only 
a  personal  life,  that  personality  is  inwrought  into  the  very 
structure  of  the  universe  and  we  here,  finite  persons,  are  at 
home  in  our  father's  house.  — 

In  order  to  bring  this  most  wisely  before  the  public  and 
somewhat  relieve  it  of  the  immediate  objections  sure  to 
arise,  Berkeley  put  it  forth  in  a  narrow  and  tentative  form 
in  1709,  when  he  was  only  twenty-four  years  of  age.  He 
announced  a  new  theory  of  vision,  pointing  out  that  that 
which  we  have  always  imagined  we  see,  distance,  is  in 
reality  not  seen  by  us  at  all.  Distance  can  only  report 
actual  experiences  combined  with  locomotive  experiences. 
All  that  we  can  see  is  colored  circles.  We  cannot  see  a  line 
directly  in  front  of  us.  "We  only  see  the  butt  ends  of  rays 
of  light.  It  is  an  admirable  illustration  of  the  w^ay  in  which 
God  has  ordered  the  world,  so  that  our  ideas  may  be  inher- 
ently^ collected  together,  so  that  on  having  certain  ones  we 
.may  know  what  other  ones  belong  to  this  group. 

In  his  tlieory  of  vision,  therefore,  the  ideal  theory  is  set 
forth  onh'  in  a  tentative  way.  But  in  the  following  year, 
1710,  Berkeley  put  forth  his  Principles,  in  which  the  great 
theory  is  not  only  announced,  but  all  possible  objections  to 
it  which  anyone  could  imagine  are  successively  taken  up 
and  answered  with  extreme  candor.     Berkeley's  mind  has 


12 


gone  all  over  the  field,  has  understood  exactly  where  diffi- 
culties la}',  and  he  sets  forth  his  replies  in  the  most  lucid, 
interesting,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  impassioned 
stj'le.  Three  years  later  he  began  to  see  that  this  treatise, 
the  "Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,"  was  perhaps  a 
little  too  exact,  a  little  too  scholastic  in  form,  to  make  the 
great  conception  apprehensible  by  ordinary  mankind.  He 
accordingly  threw  it  into  the  form  of  dialogue.  The  three 
dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous  he  had  ready  for 
publication  in  1713.  Just  consider  the  precocity  of  the 
young  man.  I  suppose  there  is  no  other  example  like  it  in 
the  whole  range  of  philosophy,  of  one  developing  such 
fundamental  ideas  at  so  early  an  age.  These  ideas  of 
Berkeley  have  revolutionized  philosophy,  not  that  it  is  gen- 
erally believed  that  he  has  expressed  the  whole  truth,  but 
that  he  has  expressed  truth,  and  truth  of  the  most  impor- 
tant kind. 

Having  now  set  forth  these  conceptions  in  these  differ- 
ent forms — in  the  technical  manner  as  applied  to  the  single 
sense  of  sight  for 'men  of  scientific  temper;  in  the  elaborate 
and  careful  form  of  his  Principles  for  those  of  more  philo- 
sophic mind ;  and  in  the  form  of  three  delightful  dialogues 
— most  charming  reading — for  the  average  man,  Berkeley 
decided  to  go  over  to  London  and  inspect  the  wider  world. 
He  was  provided  with  an  introduction  by  his  friend  Swift 
to  the  Earl  of  Peterborough,  who  was  about  to  make  a 
journey  to  Italy.  The  Earl  of  Peterborough  accepted 
Berkeley,  as  his  secretary,  and  now,  for  the  first  time, 
Berkeley,  abroad  in  Italy  and  in  France,  saw  all  the  beauty 
that  had  been  accumulated  there,  not  only  in  literature,  in 
painting,  but  at  the  same  time  in  architecture,  an  art  that 
he  was  ever  devotedly  fond  of.  This  was  a  time  of  large 
intellectual  growth  for  Berkeley.  We  cannot  say  that  that 
first  enthusiasm  passed  by.  Nothing  was  ever  dropped  in 
the  thought  of  this  careful  thinker.  But  at  any  rate  it  was 
held  in  suspense  for  a  time,  and  in  this  interval  of  foreign 
life  new  thoughts  began  to   germinate.     After  returning 


home,  after  ten  months  with  the  Earl  of  Peterborough,  he 
was  asked  to  take  charge  of  the  son  of  an  Irish  bishop,  and 
went  abroad  once  more,  with  this  young  man,  for  five  years. 
During  this  time  still  larger  culture  was  obtained  by  Berke- 
ley— acquaintance  with  foreign  languages,  with  the  most 
eminent  men  in  all  departments.  Returning  home  in  1720, 
he  encountered  in  his  own  country  what  struck  him  as 
strange  delusions,  wild  purposes,  and  great  personal  greed. 
The  South  Sea  Bubble  had  been  holding  the  attention  of 
his  countrymen,  Llost  of  them  knew  it  to  be  unsound,  but 
their  hope  was  to  get  their  money  into  it  and  out  again 
before  their  neighbors  were  so  successful.  In  1721  that 
bubble  burst,  and  widespread  misery  followed.  Berkeley 
had  been  watching  it  with  care  and  was  convinced  that  a 
large  part  of  the  trouble  came  from  lack  of  a  spiritual  mind 
on  the  part  of  his  generation.  It  all  confirmed  him  in  his 
purpose  to  dedicate  himself  to  the  scattering  of'  divine 
truth. 

He  went  back  to  Ireland,  to  Trinity  College,  joined  it 
once  more  as  a  lecturer  on  Hebrew,  and  took,  a  little  earlier 
than  this,  his  deacon's  orders  in  the  church. 

But  a  new  idea  was  beginning  to  form  in  Berkeley's 
mind,  a  fresh  enthusiasm.  Was  this  old,  corrupt  Europe 
worth  trying  to  save  ?  Was  it  not  too  far  gone  in  material 
conceptions?  Might  it  not  be  well  to  seek  for  some  land 
in  which  there  should  be  a  freer  opportunity?  Berkeley's 
thoughts  began  to  turn  toward  America.  If  only  he  could 
go  to  America,  if  he  could  there  found  a  college,  if  he  could 
there  train  worthy  ministers,  if,  indeed,  he  could  get  hold 
of  the  natives  uncorrupted  as  yet  by  all  the  depravities  of 
civilization,  if  he  could  have  them  under  his  influence 
from  early  years  and  train  them  to  diviner  understanding, 
then  here  in  this  new  country  there  might  grow  up  a  larger 
opportunity  than  mankind  had  ever  known  before.  It  was 
in  this  connection  that  his  remarkable  poem  was  composed. 
All  of  us  are  familiar  with  some  lines  of  it.  Let  me  read  it 
to  you  in  its  proper  connection. 


14 


VEESES  ON  THE  PEOSPECT  OF  PLANTING  AETS  AND 
SCIENCES  IN  AMEEICA 

The  Muse  disgusted  at  an  age  and  clime 

Barren  of  every  glorious  theme, 
In  distant  lands  now  waits  a  better  time 

Producing  subjects  worthy  fame. 

In  happier  climes  where  from  the  genial  sun 

And  virgin  earth  such  scenes  ensue 
The  force  of  art  by  nature  seems  outdone, 

And  fancied  beauties  by  the  true. 

In  happy  climes,  the  seat  of  innocence. 
Where  Nature  guides  and  virtue  rules, 

"Where  men  shall  not  impose  for  truth  and  sense 
The  pedantry  6f  courts  and  schools; 

There  shall  be  sung  another  golden  age, 

The  rise  of  empire  and  of  arts, 
The  good  and  great  inspiring  epic  sage. 

The  wisest  heads  and  noblest  hearts. 

Not  such  as  Europe  breeds  in  her  decay; 

Such  as  she  bred  when  fresh  and  young. 
When  heavenly  flame  did  animate  her  clay. 

By  future  poets  shall  be  sung. 

Westward  the  course  of  empire  takes  its  way; 

The  four  first  acts  already  past, 
A  fifth  shall  close  the  Drama  with  the  day; 

Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last. 

These  were  the  hopes  that  inspired  a  great  passion  in 
Berkeley.  Of  course,  it  was  partially  a  dream.  America 
was  a  romantic  land  at  that  time.  The  noble  savage  was  an 
ideal  figure,  the  realities  of  his  life  but  li|tle  comprehended. 
Still,  was  it  not  a  sublime  fancy  that,  when  the  lands  of  civil- 
ization were  worn  out,  one  should  turn  to  fresh  soil?  It 
was  with  just  such  ideals  as  these  that  your  fathers  migrated 
to  this  splendid  region.  Such  conceptions  animated  the 
noble  Berkeley. 


15 


He  accordingly  left  Ireland,  went  over  to  England  once 
more,  armed  again  with  a  letter  from  Swift.  That  letter 
from  Swift  so  accurately  describes  the  character  of  Berke- 
ley that  I  venture  to  read  a  portion  of  it.  After  some 
introductory  words — the  letter  is  addressed  to  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Ireland — he  goes  on :  "  Your  Excellency  will 
be  frighted  when  I  tell  you  that  all  this  is  but  an  introduc- 
tion, for  I  am  only  now  to  niention  the  gentleman's  errand. 
He  is  an  absolute  philosopher  with  regard  to  money,  titles, 
and  power,  and  for  three  years  past  has  been  struck- with 
the  notion  of  founding  a  university  at  Bermuda  by  a  char- 
ter from  the  Crown.  He  has  induced  several  of  the  hope- 
fullest  young  clergymen  and  others  here  to  join  him  in  a 
scheme  for  a  life  academico-philosophical  in  a  college  to  be 
founded  for  Indian  scholars  and  missionaries;  where  he 
most  exorbitantly  proposes  a  whole  hundred  pounds  a  year 
for  himself,  fifty  pounds  for  a  fellow  and  ten  for  a  student. 
His  heart  will  break  if  his  Deanery  be  not  taken  from  him 
and  left  to  your  Excellency's  disposal.  I  discouraged  him 
by  the  coldness  of  courts  and  ministers,  who  will  interpret 
all  this  as  impossible  and  a  vision,  but  nothing  will  do. 
And  therefore  I  humbly  entreat  your  Excellency  either  to 
use  such  persuasions  as  will  keep  one  of  the  first  men  in 
the  kingdom  for  learning  and  virtue  quiet  at  home  or  assist 
him  b}^  your  credit  to  compass  his  romantic  design ;  which, 
however,  is  very  noble  and  generous,  and  directly  proper 
for  a  great  person  of  your  excellent  education  to  en- 
courage. ' ' 

Swift,  as  all  know,  is  one  who  seldom  speaks  kindly  of 
anyone.  Constitutionally  a  fault-finder,  we  see  how  deeply 
the  excellencies  of  Berkeley  had  impressed  themselves  upon 
him.  And  this  was  the  same  with  all  with  whom  Berkeley 
came  in  contact.  Pope  is  a  man  of  easily  excited  tongue, 
and  yet  these  are  his  lines  on  becoming  acquainted  with 
Berkeley : 


16 


' '  Even  in  a  bishop  I  can  spy  desert ; 
Seeker  is  decent,  Eundle  has  a  heart;  i 

Manners  with  candor  are  to  Benson  given, 
To  Berkeley  every  virtue  under  heaven. ' ' 

I  see  that  I  omitted  an  important  fact  just  before  I  said 
that  he  went  over  to  England  to  obtain  money  for  his 
college ;  for  two  years  before  he  was  appointed  Dean  of 
Derrj^,  one  of  the  best  ecclesiastical  positions  in  Ireland, 
with  a  salary  of  eleven  hundred  pounds.  When  you  come 
to  multiply  that  three  or  four  times,  according  to  the  worth 
of  money  at  that  time,  you  will  see  that  it  was  a  consider- 
able sum.  He  went  over,  however,  to  England,  and  de- 
manded that  this  be  taken  away  from  him  and  he  be  sent 
out  to  Bermuda  on  a  salary  of  a  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
He  found,  as  Swift  had  predicted,  a  coldness  on  nearly  all 
sides.  He  had  hoped  to  raise  the  money  for  his  college  by 
private  subscription,  but,  finding  these  subscriptions  came 
in  somewhat  slowly,  he  then  applied  to  the  government. 
Readily  he  obtained  a  charter  from  the  government,  but  he 
desired  also  a  large  endowment,  and  his  persuasive  elo- 
quence was  so  great  that  in  a  short  time  he  obtained  a  grant 
from  Parliament  of  twenty  thousand  pounds  to  found  a 
college  in  Bermuda. 

I  ought,  however,  to  pause  here  a  moment  to  tell  of  the 
romantic  incident  which  made  this  undertaking  the  more 
possible  for  him.  His  friend  Swift  had  had  in  London  the 
acquaintance  of  a  young  woman,  Esther  Van  Hornrigh, 
her  whom  he  celebrates  in  his  poem  as  Vanessa,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  Dutch  merchant.  Swift  took  Berkeley  to  her  house 
at  one  time.  Probably  Berkeley  saw  her  only  once  in  her 
life.  She  was  passionately  in  love  with  Swift.  According 
to  his  account,  he  felt  a  friendly  interest  in  her,  and  nothing 
more.  Deeply  disappointed,  she  went  over  to  Ireland  and 
interviewed  there  Esther  Johnson,  to  whom  Swift  writes  his 
' '  The  Journal  to  Stella, ' '  and  learned  from  her  that  Swift 
M^as  already  married  to  herself.  So  deep  a  gloom  fell  on 
her  that  in  the  succeeding  year  she  died,  changing  her  will, 


17 


in  which  she  had  given  her  property  to  Swift,  and  be- 
queathing it  in  two  parts,  one  to  a  judge  of  the  court,  an 
intimate  personal  friend,  and  the  other  half  to  Bishop 
Berkeley,  recognizing  in  him  such  purity,  such  elevation  of 
spirit,  such  noble  purposes,  that  her  disappointment  could 
find  no  better  consolation  than  to  leave  him  some  four 
thousand  pounds.  Here,  then,  were  further  means  for  the 
Indian  college. 

I  think  that  you  must  have  been  surprised  when  I  said 
that  his  purpose  was  to  found  his  college  at  Bermuda. 
Bermuda  is  some  six  hundred  miles  off  the  coast.  The 
English  possessions  ran  from  Canada  to  the  "West  Indies, 
having  an  extent  of  some  sixteen  hundred  miles,  and  Ber- 
muda is  about  equally  distant  from  them  both.  What 
crazy  considerations  could  have  been  in  Berkeley's  head  to 
make  him  think  that  would  be  a  good  place  for  a  college? 
These  considerations  he  mentions.  He  says  that  he  wants 
to  isolate  this  college ;  he  does  not  wish  it  to  be  surrounded 
with  corrupt  influences;  the  tribes  of  the  continent  were 
savage  tribes  and  they  might  easily  make  inroads  upon  his 
college ;  it  was  desirable,  therefore,  that  it  should  be  upon 
an  island ;  he  wished  it  to  be  a  college  for  the  entire  country, 
and  therefore  it  should  be  fairly  equally  distant  from  all 
parts  of  it.  One  fails  to  remember,  too,  that  at  that  time 
journeying  by  land  was  an  extremely  difficult  matter.  The 
easy  mode  of  journeying  was  by  sea.  Accordingly,  Berke- 
ley planted  his  college  where  it  could  be  readily  got  at  by 
those  so  desiring.  Considerations  of  this  sort  were  weighty. 
Further,  too,  he  wished  it  to  be  in  a  spot  where  expense 
would  be  reduced  to  the  lowest  point,  where  climate,  soil, 
and  products  would  all  be  desirable  for  the  young  students. 
He  wished  them  to  live  in  great  simplicity,  for  he  proposed 
to  train  his  young  Indians  and  then  send  them  back  to 
their  own  humble  lives. 

None  were  to  be  over  ten  years  of  age.  He  wished  to 
separate  them  from  all  the  evil  influences  of  their  homes 
and    train    them    into    religious    and    intellectual    beings. 


18 


These  two  aims  are  never  separated  in  Berkeley's  mind. 
His  thought  of  the  Christian  man  is  the  whole  man.  he  who 
has  cultivated  every  side  of  himself.  Such  a  man,  you  will 
readih^  understand,  has  no  intolerance  in  him.  He  meets 
all  men  on  a  level  of  equality  with  himself  and  seeks  to 
develop  in  them  not  merely  tlie  spiritual  virtues,  but  the 
scholarly  ones  as  well. 

For  four  j^ears  Berkeley  continued  in  London,  soliciting 
money  for  his  college.  The  grant  finally  made,  he,  after 
waiting  for  the  money  to  be  paid  over,  accepted  the  prom- 
ises of  Sir  Robert  "Walpole  that  it  should  follow  him  to  this 
country.  Then,  in  1728,  he  married  Anne  Forster,  the 
daughter  of  the  speaker  of  the  Irish  House  of  Commons 
and  judge  of  the  highest  court  in  Scotland,  an  admirable 
woman,  who  alwaj's  made  an  excellent  companion  to  him 
and  shared  heartilj^  his  idealistic  conceptions.  He  per- 
suaded three  fellows  of  his  college  to  give  up  their  comfort- 
able livings  and  accompany  him,  the  sister  of  his  wife 
joined  him,  and  in  1728  the  party  sailed  for  this  country. 
Whether  through  some  mistake  in  steering,  or  from  inten- 
tion, we  do  not  know,  they  landed  at  Newport.  Newport 
was  at  that  time  one  of  the  great  seaports  of  the  East,  a 
seaport  almost  as  important  as  New  York  or  Boston  today. 

There  Berkeley  bought  a  piece  of  land  a  little  way  out 
from  Newport  and  built  himself  a  comfortable,  though 
plain,  home,  which  he  called  Whitehall,  and  went  into 
seclusion,  waiting  for  the  money  to  arrive.  These  were 
dispiriting  years,  but  Berkeley  did  not  withdraw  himself 
altogether  and  show  no  interest  in  his  new  city.  On  the 
contrary,  though  there  was  only  a  single  Episcopal  cliurch 
in  Newport,  and  hardly  more  in  the  whole  colony,  he 
joined  most  heartily  with  this  church,  often  preached  in  it, 
and  on  his  departure  gave  it  an  organ,  which  it  still  pos- 
sesses; but  he  also  joined  with  all  the  other  religious  life 
of  the  people  and  entered  heartily  into  the  work  of  the 
Puritan  clergy,  and  was.  deeply  interested  in  the  recent 
foundation  of  Yale  College.     One  of  its  former  fellows, 


19 


Samuel  Johnson,  became  an  ardent  disciple  of  his.  After 
leaving  Newport  and  reaching  England,  Berkeley  sent  back 
to  Yale  College  the  largest  collection  of  books  its  library 
had  ever  received.  To  Harvard  he  also  sent  books.  He 
had  his  portrait  painted  by  Smibert — a  portrait  of  himself 
and  all  his  famih^  This  picture  was  subsequently  bought 
for  Yale  College.  From  it  the  picture  here  has  been 
copied. 

In  Newport,  he  remained  with  the  great  enthusiasm 
seething  in  his  breast  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world  growing 
cool.  Years  passed  by  and  nothing  came.  Berkeley  could 
not  be  idle.  Today  there  is  pointed  out  on  the  seashore  the 
rock  to  which  he  used  to  go  for  writing.  He  busied  himself 
here  in  setting  forth  anew  his  idealistic  conception,  and 
now  more  especially  in  reference  to  moral  and  religious 
matters.  It  was  here  that  he  wrote  the  two  delightful  vol- 
umes which  he  subsequently  published  in  London  under  the 
title  of  "Alciphron."  Manj^  descriptions  are  introduced 
here  of  the  beautiful  scenery  along  the  coast  of  Newport. 

But  gradually  it  became  plain  that  the  money  which 
had  been  voted  under  the  inspiring  presence  of  Berkeley 
had  been  used  for  other  purposes  by  the  lukewarm  Prime 
Minister.  It  was  plain  that  he  must  return,  a  disappointed 
man,  to  his  country.  He  went  back  in  1732,  leaving  many 
of  his  companions  here.  I  spoke  of  the  painter  Smibert, 
who  came  over  in  the  same  vessel  with  him.  He  was  an 
English  painter  whom  he  had  met  in  Italy  and  interested 
as  deeply  as  he  had  all  others  with  whom  he  spoke  of  his 
new  conception  of  America.  Smibert  accompanied  him 
here,  and  today  many  portraits  of  that  excellent  painter 
are  to  be  found  throughout  New  England. 

Returning  to  England,  Berkeley  had  remained  there 
only  a  year  when  he  was  appointed  Bishop  of  Cloyne. 
Cloyne  is  a  large  diocese  in  the  south  of  Ireland,  immedi- 
ately adjoining  the  city  of  Cork.  It  is  not  altogether  a 
beautiful  place.  Much  poverty  was  in  the  place,  and 
the  perpetual  problems  of  the  relation  of  Ireland  and  Eng- 


20 


land  would  be  pressing  on  anyone  resident  there.  In  the 
first  year  of  his  residence  Berkeley  put  out  a  volume  calling 
attention  to  these  problems,  a  volume  entitled  ' '  Queries ' ' ; 
for  it  is  written  entirely  in  questions,  asking  whether  the 
English  government  is  wise  in  dealing  thus  and  so  with 
Ireland.  The  book  is  certainly  a  singularly  modern  affair. 
As  one  reads  it  one  finds  the  means  pointed  out  which  Eng- 
land would  have  been  wise  long  ago  to  have  adopted  to 
unite  closel}'  to  itself  this  ardent  and  warm-hearted  island. 

But,  living  in  his  diocese  in  great  retirement,  though 
putting  out  almost  a  new  book  in  each  of  his  early  years 
there,  Berkeley  acquired  habits — or,  rather,  carried  them 
over  from  America — of  seclusion  and  careful  thought  which 
had  hardly  been  his  before,  in  the  years  of  London  or  of 
Italj'  and  France. 

In  1739  there  came  a  serious  disturbance  in  his  diocese. 
Men,  women  and  children  were  falling  ill  on  every  side. 
I  suppose  we  would  call  it  grippe  or  malarial  fever.  Few 
physicians  were  to  be  had.  Berkeley,  as  the  spiritual 
father  of  the  place,  was  called  on  also  to  be  its  physician. 
He  had  heard,  in  America,  of  the  use  of  various  prepara- 
tions of  tar  a.s  valuable  medical  agents,  and  now  began  his 
third  great  enthusiasm,  the  enthusiasm  for  drinking  tar- 
water.  He  supplied  this  beverage  to  many  of  his  sick 
parishioners  and  found  that  they  did  not  die  of  it.  He 
began  passing  it  about,  and  finally  became  convinced  that 
it  was  a  universal  panacea.  Through  it  almost  every  ill- 
ness could  be  banished  from  mankind.  One  wonders  how 
he  could  have  been  induced  to  believe  such  a  thing,  but  he 
had,  after  all,  considerable  reason.  There  is  nothing  more 
remarkable  in  Berkeley  than  the  minute  care  he  takes  in 
verifying  matters  which  strike  outsiders  as  loose  fanati- 
cisms. In  America  he  had  learned  that  tar,  in  its  various 
preparations,  Avas  an  admirable  disinfectant,  that  it  largely 
destroyed  germs  of  all  sorts.'  He  found  that  the  Indians 
again  and  again  used  it  with  benefit  in  various  diseases. 
Then,  too,  as  he  began  more  and  more  fully,  while  resident 


21 


at  Cloyne,  to  study  the  ancient  writers,  he  found  that  the 
preparations  of  the  pine  had  had  a  large  part  not  only  in 
their  common  life,  but  in  their  materia  mcdica.  He  found 
that  the  early  Greeks,  as  well  as  the  Greeks  of  our  day, 
were  in  the  habit  of  resinating  their  wine  to  make  it  more 
wholesome.  The  staff  of  Bacchus  is  crowned  with  a  pine 
cone.  Everywhere  pine,  he  founcl,  had  been  recognized  by 
the  ancients  as  a  most  important  agent  in  the  life  of  man. 
Accordingly,  he  studied  with  care  exactly  how  the  tar- 
water  should  be  made,  just  what  the  proportions  of  the  mix- 
ture should  be,  just  how  it  should  be  dealt  out  to  those  in 
need  of  it ;  and  need  enough  there  was  in  his  parish.  Nat- 
urally reports  about  it  spread.  Berkeley  found  it  neces- 
sary to  write  a  treatise  on  tar-water,  a  description  of  just 
how  it  should  be  prepared  and  what  service  might  be  ex- 
pected from  it.  His  book  was,  accordingly,  entitled 
"Siris,  A  Chain  of  Philosophical  Reflections  and  Inquiries 
Concerning  the  Virtues  of  Tar  Water  and  Diverse  Other 
Subjects  Connected  Together  and  Arising  One  from  An- 
other." Siris  is  a  Greek  word  derived  from  sira,  a  chain. 
Sins,  therefore,  means  "a  little  chain."  In  this  remark- 
able book,  the  last  and  perhaps  the  greatest  of  all  Berke- 
ley's books,  he  starts  with  an  account  of  the  making  of 
tar-water.  Then  he  proceeds  to  point  out  what  are  the 
characteristics  of  vegetable  growth.  He  passes  from  this 
to  consider  the  other  great  natural  agencies,  the  agencies  of 
light  or  fire  as  a  basal  principle  in  the  physical  universe. 
Everywhere  it  seems  tg  be  as  universal  in  the  physical  world 
as  mind  is  in  the  world  of  humanity.  Berkeley,  therefore, 
proceeds  to  inquire  how  far  there  is  a  correspondence  be- 
tween the  principle  of  fire  and  the  principle  of  mind,  or  of 
thought,  and  so  gradually  rises  to  the  great  conception  of 
anima  mundi,  of  a  soul  of  the  world,  with  which  we  are  all 
in  connection.  These  years  at  Cloyne  had  largely  been 
spent  in  the  reading  of  Plato  and  the  Neo-Platonists,  both 
those  of  Alexandria  and  of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy.  He 
had  become  convinced  that  the  great  mind  immanent  in 


22 


the  world  and  in  ourselves  manifests  itself  in  three  differ- 
ent ways — first,  as  the  Eternal  One,  then  as  the  principle  of 
intellect,  and  then  as  the  principle  of  individual  life — 
all  these  three  being  manifestations  of  a  single  infinite 
spirit. 

John  Stuart  ]\Iill  seldom  allows  himself  a  jest,  but  in 
speaking  of  Berkeley,  in  the  main  with  great  reverence,  he 
says  that  this  last  book  of  his  begins  with  tar-water  and 
ends  with  the  Trinity  and  that  the  tar-water  is  the  best  part 
of  it.  I  think  it  probably  is  desirable  to  let  you  see  the 
different  sides  of  this  remarkable  volume.  Accordingly,  I 
read  a  bit  from  the  opening  passage  of  the  book  and  then 
read  also  its  concluding  paragraph : 

In  certain  parts  of  America  tar-water  is  made  by  putting  a  quart 
of  cold  water  to  a  quart  of  tar  and  stirring  them  well  together  in  a 
vessel,  Avhieli  is  left  standing  until  the  tar  sinks  to  the  bottom.  A 
glass  of  clear  water  being  poured  off  for  a  draught,  is  replaced  by 
the  same  quantity  of  fresh  water,  the  vessel  being  shaken  and  left  to 
stand  for  a  while,  and  this  is  repeated  with  every  glass  so  long  as  the 
tar  continues  to  impregnate  the  water. 

This  is  minute  and  tells  us  precisely  how  our  medicine 
should  be  prepared.  But  see  to  what  heights  he  subse- 
quently rises : 

The  eye,  by  long  use,  comes  to  see  even  in  the  darkest  cavern;  and 
there  is  no  subject  so  obscure  but  we  may  discern  some  glimpse  of 
truth  by  long  poring  on  it.  Truth  is  the  cry  of  all,  but  the  game  of 
a  few.  Certainly  where  it  is  the  chief  passion,  it  doth  not  give  way 
to  vulgar  cares  and  views,  nor  is  it  contented  with  a  little  ardour  in 
the  early  time  of  life;  active,  perhaps,  to  pursue,  but  not  so  fit  to 
weigh  and  revise.  He  that  would  make  real  progress  in  knowledge 
must  dedicate  his  age  as  well  as  his  youth,  the  later  growth  as  well 
as  the  first  fruits,  at  the  altar  of  truth. 

Are  not  these  just  such  words  as  you  would  desire  your 
patron  saint  to  utter?  Are  not  the  splendid  enthusiasms 
of  this  man,  and  at  the  same  time  his  desire  for  accurate 
thought,  precisely  what  should  inspire  you  ?  Long  may  he 
remain  as  a  power  in  the  consciousness  of  the  University  of 
California ! 


5AYLAMOUNT®      ' 
^PHLET  BINDER 
S      Syracuse,  N.Y. 
=      Stockton,  Calif. 


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